Later the same day, I'm staring up at the hunting towers built around the large walls surrounding us. Men dressed in suits and fedoras walk around the planks carrying massive guns, patrolling the ramparts as if waiting for something to jump out from the woods. I shudder at the thought. The cabins where people live are scattered in a vast courtyard, more significant than a field, creating a small town hidden away from the world. But the question I've been asking myself is: who, or what are we hiding from? Why is everyone carrying rifles? The idea of there being an invisible enemy out there, one I don't know about yet, makes me want to throw up. My life has been turned upside down already. What else is happening in our strange world that no one has informed me of yet? My knowledge of the world isn't enough, but so far, I know world war three happened, that food and electricity are a rarity these days, shampoo is apparently a luxury... But why are people

I'm late for my date with Courtney. Determination is pumping through me as I put on my rags. Ryan spoke from behind the door earlier; he told me his men found and killed the infected that had managed to get inside the courtyard without any casualties.After the information, I had told Ryan that I would head outside to milk the cows with Courtney since the threat is gone, and that had made him laugh and say: "Trying to win my heart by working, are we?" which had sent a spike of heat to my chest. It seems jokes and fun has become our new routine as of today.If only I hadn't fallen back asleep.Shit, I'm such a clutz!I rush down the stairs, halting when I catch Courtney's shoes thrown off on the carpet in the hallway.

Amelia Frustration is the winning emotion when I'm sitting there, milking Wanda, the black and white cow in the stable. I want to hate Ryan, and believe me, I have every reason to loathe the man, but I felt a twinge of guilt when he stormed out through the door. Why does it bother me that he is angry with me? I shouldn't care! Inhaling, I run both my hands through my hair, accidentally kicking the metal bucket and spilling out milk all over the wooden planks. An angry growl travels up my throat. "Goddamn it!" I mutter plenty of other swear words, way too aware of the image of Ryan's smirk slipping into my head. The guy is everywhere, in my dreams, thoughts, and now I can't even work! Ryan is like an infection, and I can't breathe, function, or even think! Those stormy blue eyes just randomly pop up in my head whenever they feel like it, and then I want to punch a wall or kiss Ryan's plush lips, and ugh! I'm so sexually frus

Ryan I glare out through the window. Amelia still isn't back from milking the damn cows. Why is it taking her so long? And why did I buy Dom Pérignon? I slur around the champagne inside my glass for a while, annoyed beyond relief that the woman still isn't here when I prepared dinner. One could mistake me for a foolish man in love. Like an idiot, I jumped into my car earlier today, and drove to the wealthy parts of our city, and bought the most expensive steak I could find. Amelia was so angry at me this morning, and I thought some gifts might make her hate me less. It's sad, but when I saw Billy buy his secret date one of those Louis Vuitton bags, I got one for Amelia too, hoping it would turn her on to see one in the living flesh. I even had some lady guide me through the makeup section and hand me all kinds of stuff I thought Amelia would appreciate. For example, lipgloss for her plump pinks, perfume, other shower articles, some fou

After Ryan's lips leave mine, I feel as empty as a shell, already missing his mouth on mine. He is leaning further back on the couch, giving me space, but I can still feel his breath on my skin. Cautiously, I lift my chin to examine his face, and the picture stops my heart. What I observe isn't the emotionless man with storms brewing behind his eyes; I see the passion and the flames—his eyes are almost entirely black. I barely dare to breathe. I'm afraid of the lustful expression on Ryan's face, terrified of where this might lead since I know we both want each other. The atmosphere is electric. And my pulse is already elevating at the thought of kissing him again, but I'm also afraid, scared his kiss might not have meant anything romantic. "What did that kiss mean?" Embarrassingly enough, my voice comes out like a hoarse whisper, still weak from whatever drug I was injected with. Ryan, however, doesn't seem to mind, something resembling curiosity flar